


Still Uneasy

by gross_batpanda



Series: Chicagoland [10]
Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Punk, Chicago (City), Crossover, Dirty Talk, Feelings, First Love, Grooming, Gross, Guilt, M/M, Masturbation, Photography, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gross_batpanda/pseuds/gross_batpanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title from a Pegboy song. Heed the warnings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Uneasy

Ben passes through life without anyone really seeing him. He wakes up to an alarm clock that used to belong to his younger brother, and takes a shower in the bathroom the boys all share. On the way to school he passes by his mother, drinking her black coffee with two packets of Equal and staring out the window. She talks at him, past him. _I’m working late this afternoon, you’ll have to get the bus home. There’s twenty dollars on the counter for dinner. Take the trash out when you leave._

The bus is terrible. He’d rather walk. Alex has made him mixtapes, and he can play almost one full side, all thirty minutes give or take, on the way there. His steps slow as he approaches the building. If he drags his feet then he can finish the tape. When he shows up late to first period, as he inevitably does, the teacher’s eyes skim over him. He’s pretty sure she’s never once marked him tardy. That’s how missable he is even to her. She’d told him once that he should apply himself more: get a 5 on the exam, test out of his credits for college downstate.

_You want to be close to your family, don’t you? Why would you want to ever leave Illinois?_

Alex got out. Ben wants out too. He’s not smart enough to get into Columbia; he’s not even smart enough to get that great score on the AP test. Maybe if he studied every single day and that was all he did, and he’d still end up where. Urbana? Carbondale?

Ben has no idea what he wants, but he sure as hell knows he won’t find it downstate. He’d said as much, when she’d suggested he come to her study sessions on Friday afternoons. He’d rather die.

There are kids at the club, in the scene, who are only a few years older than him. They’ve done all sorts of crazy shit. They’ve hitchhiked around Europe, or hopped train cars. Lived in abandoned apartment buildings with no electricity, no plumbing, got their food out of dumpsters. Ben’s never going to do any of those things. He hates the idea of not being able to get clean, and he likes pasta with red sauce, and when his dad does taco night, and Pepsi cans cold with condensation from the fridge.

Monday through Thursday he goes to school, invisible, unseen, and goes home to his 7” collection and his homework, and he waits through the interminable week for Friday night. There’s a show for Halloween weekend but it’s 21+, so Ben has to hide downstairs until it’s over. He finds he doesn't mind being invisible like this, George's secret. It makes him feel grown-up. It makes him feel special. 

They go out the back door into the cold night, George first, already lighting up before his boots hit the pavement.

Ben and George don’t really talk. When they do, it’s usually George telling Ben to do something, and him rushing to comply with it. He’s not sure why. He could put up some resistance, play hard to get. It seems to be working for Alex, but he’s not like Ben. He has other things in his life; he can go where he wants, when he wants, and he has a job, and some money, and he can drink legally, and has his own apartment, and he doesn’t take shit from anyone.

George has done everything, seen everything. Ben wishes he would talk more about the West Coast, and Berlin, especially. He was there when the Wall came down, has a chunk of it just lying there on one of his bookshelves. There’s purple paint on it, some words in German. Ben touches it every time he walks past on his way to the bathroom.

George doesn’t really seem to care one way or the other whether or not Ben is clean beforehand. He’s never once mentioned it, and with the state the loft is in most nights, scattered with empty bottles and takeout boxes, cleanliness isn’t too high on his list of priorities.

He knows what George would say if he told him why he goes to the bathroom and swishes mouthwash from the tiny bottle he brings with him, and wipes his armpits with a baby wipe, and his ass with another.

He’d say _What’s the damn point, kid? You’re just gonna get all dirty again in a minute._

It’s stupid, the same way he’s stupid, but he likes it better if he’s clean, before. And he doesn’t get all that dirty, not really. He’s watched videos with so much worse than a little semen, a sticky trail across his face that he wants so badly to wipe off but George says _Leave it there, hang on a second. You look so good like that Benjamin. God, you’re gorgeous. I’m so lucky to have you._

When the flash goes off it is like the first time in his life that Ben really truly feels _seen_. George runs a thumb through the mess on Ben’s cheek and he automatically opens his mouth to suck on it. His dick is hard and his pulse is racing as he swallows, and when George goes to take his thumb away, Ben whimpers, and sucks harder so that he won’t go away, won't leave him alone again. 

 

\\\\\

 

Caleb likes to sit backwards in his chair during study hall. He also likes to drum on the desk with the gnawed up eraser end of his pencil. The incessant _tap tap tap_ is driving Ben up the wall. He’s trying to read about the canal system and failing miserably, when Caleb pokes him in the back with the pointy end of the pencil.

There’s a bruise just to the left of where the point falls, and he winces when it glances off the sore muscle. “Ow,” he glowers, twisting around in his seat to glare at his friend. 

“Do you want to hang out with us tonight?” he asks. “Anna’s parents said we could use the basement. They have Showtime.”

“I can’t,” Ben says automatically, and turns back to his reading. Then hearing Caleb’s dramatic sigh he swivels back around. “Next time,” he tells his friend, “okay?”

Caleb folds his arms around the back of the chair and glowers. “Whatever. If you don’t want to be seen with us anymore then that's your deal, I guess." 

The study hall teacher shushes them and Ben goes back to his textbook. His eyes won't focus. 

 _I like you fine,_ he wants to say. _But you still treat me like I'm the kid you grew up with, and I'm not like that anymore. I've had experiences now. I've seen some shit, kinda._ _I can't tell you what, exactly, but it's a big secret. The guy I'm seeing is a big deal in the city. Everyone knows him, and I mean everyone. _

But nobody knows, and they have to keep it that way. 

 

\\\\\

 

He only wishes that Alex were there. When they’re together he feels more fearless, less afraid. Alex shows him what he’s supposed to do, and if he fucks it up then he’s never angry. George gets angry sometimes, when they’re alone, and Ben isn’t really sure if it’s for real or like the videos they watch together, so he just goes with it.

He’s not angry now though. His dick is pressed out stiff and hard on the front side of his jeans, and he’s looking at Ben hungrily, the camera held lightly in his tattooed hands. “Fuck,” he says, as Ben sticks his own fingers in his mouth and works them in and out like George would do. There's a wet noise like spit that makes him feel dirty, but he kind of enjoys it. The camera is lifted, and he feels a little surge of pride at his audacity before the flash goes off. Ben isn't sure if he likes being slutty, but he knows he likes the attention that acting slutty gets him. 

The picture is laid to the side on the coffee table with the growing stack. All of Ben: parts of Ben, his face and ass and knees and toes. Ben knows by now that George has done this before, with lots of other people. There’s shoeboxes under his bed that can attest to that. Faces he sort of recognizes, body parts in poses that look familiar. George was Ben’s first, but the opposite is far from being true. If he can’t be the first guy that’s done this, then Ben at least thinks he can be the best.

So he arches his back like the guys in George’s tapes, and pinches his nipples like Alex has done to him, and moans like a porno when he slides the slicked-up plastic dildo into his ass. It’s smaller than George by at least an inch, but somehow it seems to hurt even more. He’s too eager to show off. His legs are spread too wide and he can’t get it in very far, so he’s forced to dig in his heels and tilt his pelvis forward.

George makes an approving noise when he bites his lip instead of whimpering again. He leans over close to Ben’s feet and takes another picture. “Not so fast, baby. You don’t have to rush it.”

His stomach hurts when it goes in, one slick inch at a time, and for a horrible second he thinks he might actually throw up. But then he closes his eyes, and lies still for a long minute. He smells smoke. Worried that George has lost interest he wrenches them back open only to find that George is completely transfixed by the sight before him. Pride surges up in him again, and he watches George swallow heavily, drag his eyes away from Ben’s lower half and up to his face.

George grins, and moves a little closer. He taps his cigarette against the ashtray. Ben inhales deeply, lets the smoke seep into his lungs. He doesn’t like to smoke himself, but this feels like something else. As if he could inhale George and the way George looks at him, sees him, and hold it all in his chest forever.

Instead he thinks about what Alex would do, or one of the video guys, and he lets his breath hiss through his teeth and says, in a squeaky voice, “God, I’m so _tight._ ”

“Goddamn it,” George chokes on an inhale. He lifts up the camera, pauses. “Listen to you, you dirty little thing. Who taught you how to talk like that?”

 _You did,_ he thinks, _you and Alex and all your dirty tapes._ _And now I think about it all the time, too._

Ben smiles, gasps. He swivels his hips, pushing the toy further inside himself from where it threatens to pop out. It hits a spot that feels good, one Alex helped him find but that he can’t reach with his own fingers. His forehead is sweating even though it’s cold in the apartment. When he speaks again his voice feels tinny, distant.

“I wish it was you fucking me instead,” he lies. George is strong, and his dick is really big, but Ben doesn’t need a whole lot in that department. He was telling the truth about being tight. All he ever gets to put up there are his own thin fingers, and it's never enough for him. What's best is something in between; a hot, hard dick that doesn't shred his insides when he's getting fucked. 

He pulls it out a little,  twists it with a flick of the wrist as he pushes it back in. He can't help the moan that slides out from his lips.  _Alex,_ he thinks: of dark hair falling over the side of his face, and his kind eyes, and his dick that's a good size, not so big that it's intimidating. If he were here he'd be smirking at George, saying something smart-ass about liver disease, and he'd kiss Ben's ears, and nuzzle his neck, and hold his free hand while he worked himself over with the toy. He might jerk Ben off, or lick his stomach, or play with his nipples until they turned all pink and puffy. He would be there, and he would see Ben, too. 

But right now there is only him and George, and the camera. He licks his lips, bats his eyelashes as George extinguishes his cigarette and crawls on top of Ben so he can get a better shot. The dildo keeps sliding out, though, and Ben has to shove it back in on his own. It's not nearly as good as getting fucked, it really isn't, so Ben spreads his legs wider like he's seen in some of the other pictures, and grabs George around the wrist, guiding his hand to the flat base. 

"Can you do it?" he asks, breathless, and George looks up at him, surprised that he's asking for something. Ben only ever takes what he's told to. The man looks pleased, though, and says, "I can't do it and watch you at the same time, kid." 

"Don't care," Ben says, and bears down with his body so that George is pushing the dildo in purely by virtue of holding it there. Sparks scatter across his field of vision when the tip nudges that good place inside of him, and his hips buck involuntarily. "Please, please, I need it." 

"God," rasps George, as he fucks Ben with the toy. Hard and thorough, exactly like he deserves. He's good, he's good. He's a slut, George is right. This is all he's good for, but it's all right, because he's so good at it. He can make someone like George lose control if he looks the right way, says the right stuff, and he wants more, he needs _more_. 

"I want your cock," Ben says, "please. Let me have that big dick of yours in my tight ass." 

The effect is instantaneous. Before he even knows what's happening he's on the ground, on all fours. The dildo pops out because he's not even trying to hold it in, and normally George would be annoyed, but Ben must have done something right this time, because he's saying such nice things instead _gorgeous little slut_ and _perfect, you were made for this_. Ben's forehead hits the floor and then he is full, filled to the brim and he can't hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. 

 

\\\\\

 

When he gets home that night he has to climb up the pine tree outside his window so that he can crawl inside. The pane rattles as he bumps up against it, but he makes it in without being found out. Still, he shucks off his clothes and scrambles under the covers as quickly as he can. His heart is racing and so even though the room is very dark, it takes him forever to fall asleep. He comforts himself with thinking about what he'll write to Alex in his next letter.

_I'm studying for the AP exams. It's terrible. School is super boring. It snowed last week. I'm not ready for winter yet. I don't know where I'm going to go to college. I think I need to leave this place but everyone else is staying put. I want to come see you in New York. I listen to your tapes every day._

_I wish you were here._


End file.
